"I--I wanted to wait until she--until you got back. Make sure everything's all right. Yeah?"

I gestured toward the office. "Couch is yours," I said. "I'll drive you back in the morning."

"Thanks," he said.

* * *

My phone chirped as I stepped through the roof access doors.

Doc.

"How's Revell?" I said.

"Asleep," he said. "Operation was fine. Replaced the shoulder. Going to keep him until morning. Make sure recovery is smooth. He'll be back to his old crotchety self in no time."

"Thanks, Doc."

"And I expect to see you and Mouse in here bright and early tomorrow."

"Doc--"

"I know, I know. 14:00 is fine."

"You're all heart, Doc."

I hung up, then walked to the roof parapet facing north, leaned my hands against the parapet edge, and stared out at the glimmering skyline. A light breeze blew in from the west bringing the slight scent of vehicle exhaust and the aroma of fried food from the fish and chips shop next door.

The city hummed all around me.

"It's done, Murph," I said aloud. "It's all done."

"Not quite," the voice said.

I whirled.

As I did, the Twins leaped into my hands and tracked the voice.

Burns stood a few meters away, partially silhouetted from a nearby streetlamp, a pistol pointed at me.

"You're--"

"Dead?" He shook his head. "Stupid bitch. And you said Revell told you everything?"

"What're you--"

"I know you have optics," he said. "Switch to thermo."

I did.

And inhaled sharply.

He heard and chuckled. "Missed that, didn't you."

Mods. Dermal sheathing. Boosted reflexes. Optics. Brainware.

"Spec Ops?" he said.

"I remember."

"Good. Which means I can kick your ass without this." He lowered the pistol to his side and let it drop from his hand. It clattered to the rooftop.

I kept the Twins trained on him.

The corner of his mouth twitched up into a small smile. "What's the matter? Scared you're not up to the challenge? That Murphy didn't teach you enough?"

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, and places featured in this work are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, events, institutions, or locales is purely coincidental.